


Even if the Skies Get Rough

by thorbiased



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame is taken out back and shot, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame Compliant, RIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorbiased/pseuds/thorbiased
Summary: After Thanos had been killed and the people had been settled, Brunnhilde gave him a week. To grieve, to drink, to work through all the crap he’d gone through in whatever way he needed to. But when that week was up, she marched up to his cabin with a bucket of freezing fjord water in one hand and a basket of food in the other.In which Avengers: Endgame never happened and Valkyrie and the other Avengers helped Thor through his alcoholism and depression. And then no one died. :)





	Even if the Skies Get Rough

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated for a grieving author <3

After Thanos had been killed and the people had been settled, Brunnhilde gave him a week. To grieve, to drink, to work through all the crap he’d gone through in whatever way he needed to. But when that week was up, she marched up to his cabin with a bucket of freezing fjord water in one hand and a basket of food in the other. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand what he was going through because she was maybe the only one that truly did. She couldn’t let him fall victim to the same things that she had. 

Her fist came down hard enough to hurt on the aged wooden door. “Open up, your majesty!”

The only sound was the distant crashing of waves against the cliff side. Brunnhilde frowned, worry pooling in her belly. She’s waited too long. The sickening image of Thor, his skin cold to the touch and eyes far-away and glazed over with death. Panic gripped her chest like a vise. 

“Thor!” she shouted, trying and failing to keep the hysterics out of her voice.  _ Not him too _ , was all she could think. “Thor, I’m coming in if you don’t open up!” 

She set her basket on the ground next to the bucket. There was a less violent way to get inside that cabin, but she had no interest in finding it. She took a step back, then lifted her foot into the air. The door crumbled under her boot. Earth materials were much too weak. 

The cabin was crowded and cold. Brunnhilde grabbed her bucket and basket, then stepped over the broken remnants of the door and into the foyer. 

“Thor?” she called hesitantly into the silent house. The fear of finding a body instead of Thor made her steps slow and deliberate. She entered the kitchen, which was devoid of anything resembling food, and left her basket of food on the table. The living room had just a couch and a rug that was probably crawling with bugs.

It reminded her of her old apartment on Sakaar—disgusting. The mark of a hurting person, she guessed. 

“Thor!” she yelled, turning down a hallway, “Where are you?”

There was a single door on the hall, cracked open to let a bit of natural light shine through. Brunnhilde pushed it open. Inside there was a bed with a pile of blankets on top, and presumably a Thor under all of them, and a pile of empty bottles beside it. Heart beating just a hair too fast, Brunnhilde lifted the blankets off of him. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Brunnhilde couldn’t tell if he was breathing. But then she heard the light snores escaping his lips. She could’ve cried from relief. She shook his shoulder once to see if he would wake, but he didn’t stir. 

“Fine,” she murmured, leaning down to grab the water she’d brought for this exact reason. She tossed it in his face unceremoniously, then jumped back out of the way of his blindly swinging fists. 

Thor shot up with an angry curse, glaring at her with red rimmed eyes. He sat in charged silence, panting. Brunnhilde just stared at him with an unimpressed look. He dragged his hands over his face. 

“What was that for?” he asked finally. 

“It’s been a week, Thor,” she said dropping her now-empty bucket to the ground with a clatter. She folded her arms over her chest. 

Thor huffed. “So?” 

Anger rushed in to replace the fear Brunnhilde had felt the entire week. “ _ So?  _ Thor, I thought you were dead!” 

It was supposed to be harsh, but her voice cracked on “dead” and thrown the two of them into an awkward silence. She couldn’t believe how much she’d started to care about him in such little time. So much that the thought of him dying had kept her up at night. 

Brunnhilde cleared her throat. “Get up, Thor. Ana sent food for you,” she said, her voice clipped and almost professional. She stepped back from the bed, expecting him to stand. “Get  _ up _ .”

Thor sighed and threw back his cocoon of blankets. Brunnhilde tried not to wince when he stood on shaky legs and nearly fell. She had to force herself to stay angry with him. He looked pitiful, shirtless with his messy hair and bruised, haunted eyes. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. She maybe shouldn’t have yelled at him. 

He walked past her, still unsteady on his feet, and she followed close behind him to the kitchen. There were still faded pink scars on his back, but Brunnhilde couldn’t tell if they were from Thanos or Hela. There was one on his side from Hela that she’d been the one to patch up. 

They reached the kitchen, and Thor took a seat in front of the basket of bread and fruit. He didn’t make a move to actually eat any of it, though. Brunnhilde broke off a piece of bread and placed it in his hand.

“Eat,” she commanded gently. He did not. “Please, Thor.”

Thor sighed, but he took a tentative bite of the bread. Brunnhilde smiled softly, then broke off a piece for herself. “So,” she said, mumbling over the bread in her mouth, “I’m sorry for splashing you with water.”

Thor shrugged. “I forgive you,” he said, “I would’ve preferred to be slapped, though. I hate being cold.”

Brunnhilde laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, winking. 

Thor’s smile didn’t come close to meeting his eyes. He sat his bread on the table. Brunnhilde’s heart dropped. “If you’re here to make me come back, you’re wasting your time.”

“And why is that?” she asked, “Thor, you can’t stay up here forever. You’re going to drink yourself to death. I won’t let you.” 

Thor’s eyes, always so warm, turned as ice cold as the fjords below them. “You’re one to talk,” he snapped. 

That stung, but Brunnhilde didn’t let it show. “You don’t want to be like me, Thor. I was miserable on Sakaar. You know that? You’ll be miserable, too, if you stay up here and rot.”

Thor’s lip trembled slightly when he spoke, but Brunnhilde pretended not to notice. “You don’t understand, Brunnhilde,” he whispered, “I’ve lost  _ everything.  _ Half the universe is gone and it’s my fault.”

Brunnhilde reached out and took his hands in hers. They were shaking.Thor hung his head. A tear slipped down his check. Before she could stop herself, Brunnhilde wiped it away with her thumb. She tilted his face back to face her. 

“This was not your fault,” she said, “And I’m not going to let you kill yourself because you think it was.”

“Why do you care so much?” he asked. 

Brunnhilde paused. Why did she care so much? Because Thor was the one to pull her out of  _ her  _ depression and alcoholism? Because Thor reminded her who she was and what she could be? Or was it more selfish than that? She cared because she couldn’t lose anyone else. 

Feelings were messy. No one did anything for just one reason. 

“I care about you, Thor,” she said as if it should’ve been obvious. It was, she guessed, at the root of all of her reasons. She cared about the goofy, kind-hearted man that was still inside of the broken one sitting in front of her. “I thought that was obvious.”

“I’m touched that you care, truly, but I can’t lead those people down there. They need a king. I’m just a man who couldn’t protect them.”

“That’s ridiculous, you know that, right?” 

Thor scoffed and leaned back. “How is it ridiculous? It took me four tries to kill Th-...” Thor’s voice dropped off suddenly. His face went pale. “It took me four tries to kill him. And that was  _ after  _ he’d killed 75% of my people. It’s like Stark said, we’re the  _ A _ -vengers, not the  _ pre _ -vengers. We do our best work after the fact.  _ After _ everyone I love is dead.”

Brunnhilde knew the feeling. “I get that,” she said softly, “I know what it’s like to feel useless. To look at yourself in the mirror and despise what you see. I get it. But you know what else I get? I get that I couldn’t live like that forever. If Hulk hadn’t crash landed on Sakaar, I would’ve died soon anyway. You need people. You need people that care about you, and Thor?.”

Brunnhilde paused until she was sure he was looking at her. “You have so many people that care about you. You have me. You’ve got all those people down there that care enough to stop me in the street and ask if you were okay. They care enough to make baskets of food for you. You’ve got the Avengers. They care enough about you to help us get settled. They care enough to call the palace. They care enough that every time I tell them where you are, they ask if they should come. Thor, so many people care about you. Even if you don’t care about yourself.” 

Brunnhilde was breathless by the time she finished, and she was close to tears. Thor was long gone, his scarred cheeks soaked. Brunnhilde squeezed his shoulders, and pressed her forehead to his. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Thor murmured. 

“I know you can’t do it alone.”

“I guess I don’t have to, do I?” he asked, giving her a lopsided smile, “I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me,” Brunnhilde said, grinning, “And you’ve got a whole kingdom beside you. And those dumb humans you like so much.”

He swallowed. “This isn’t going to be easy.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s going to be really hard, but I’ll be right here beside you go help you through it,” she promised, then pressed a kiss to his cheek, “No matter what happens.”


End file.
